


when the autumn leaves

by rowenabane



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Character Death, Death, Ghosts, Heavy Angst, M/M, Spirits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:34:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21864568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowenabane/pseuds/rowenabane
Summary: “I don’t believe in ghosts,” Renjun says curtly. “They aren’t real.”“Say what you want,” Jaemin replies, shrugging. Renjun catches a glimpse of a black line under the sleeve of his shirt. “Just because you don’t believe doesn’t mean they don’t exist.”
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Na Jaemin
Comments: 10
Kudos: 105





	when the autumn leaves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kissmyg](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissmyg/gifts).



> AAAAH!!! this is a present for my dearest friend aj, who told me they would never read my fic unless I wrote renmin. They are so awesome and without them, I wouldn't even know what to do with myself! Thank you so much for being my friend this past year, and I hope we will be friends for many, many years to come! <3 I love you!!!

_“The ghostly realm can be just as real as our physical one; the spectres are often quite ordinary people, living their busy lives alongside our own. They are like neighbours we are aware of, catching glimpses of them from time to time, hearing the odd sound from their part of the house, finding evidence they have just gone on ahead of us, slammed the gate and dashed off on their all-absorbing errands.” — Paul Gater, Paranormal Expert_

_..._

The wind already has the bitter chill of autumn, which is to be expected around here. 

Renjun ducks his head away from the wind and hurries to class, watching the leaves on the trees rustle with the breeze. They are already turning from green to orange and yellow and brown, almost ready to tumble to the ground. Renjun is not used to autumn being so cold, but here in the mountains a lot of things are different.

Renjun adjusts his bag on his shoulders and ducks into the science building, the wind rushing in behind him as he closes the door. The old stairs creak beneath him as he heads to class, the wind beating against the walls, loud and insistent.

If Renjun was a fanciful person, he would say that it was begging to be let in.

…

Fate is a funny thing, and Renjun doesn’t believe in it. 

Renjun is sitting in the bleachers watching the last soccer game of the season when a single yellow leaf swirls through the gray sky and lands on his notebook.

The sky above the soccer field is gray, and the sound of players shouting in the field is muted by the wind that rushes through the bleachers. The crowd is scarce today with not even twenty people spread out on the bleachers, all of them dedicated enough to come out in the cold.

Renjun isn’t even sure why he’s here. He has his notebook balanced on his knees, his handwriting a messy scrawl that spills over the page. He has tests to study for and a paper coming up but still, he is here.

(Renjun isn’t sure why he’s _here_ , to be honest, hundreds of miles from home and surrounded by mountains on all sides. But that thought is just a whisper, and he pays it no mind.)

Renjun picks up the leaf and looks at it for a long time. The wind batters it around in his hand as if it is trying to steal it back from him. On impulse Renjun raises it to his lips, feeling the coldness of it stark against his mouth. He pauses and then lets it go, watching it spiral back into the gray sky, disappearing from view.

The game continues and when Renjun turns his attention back to the field their team is losing. He’s not surprised. He recognizes one of the soccer players, a tall boy with brown hair and the number 11 printed on the black of his blue jersey. He’s shouting across the field at one of the other players. His words are lost in the murky cold.

A leaf blows past Renjun as he watches the soccer ball fly into the air, over the fence surrounding the field and down into the valley below, lost. This is a bad location for a soccer field, he thinks.

Someone throws the player a new ball, and like most things in life the game continues.

…

Here’s a fun fact: Renjun does not hate Na Jaemin.

Renjun bangs on the door to the bathroom that connects his room and the room next door. “Hey! You’ve been in there for almost 40 minutes! Aren’t you done yet?!” 

The water in the bathroom continues to run. Renjun had at least wanted to brush his teeth before he went to class but that was _before_ his suitemate decided he wanted to take an obscenely long shower. Renjun is about to slam on the door one more time when it swings open, revealing a smiling face and wet brown hair.

“Sorry,” Jaemin says. He’s already dressed for class, hair still damp and dripping onto the towel around his shoulders. “I had grass stains all over my body after practice this morning.”

“I do not care,” Renjun says, pushing past Jaemin. “I have wanted to brush my teeth for the last _hour.”_

Jaemin pouts slightly. “I’m really sorry.”

“I have class in literally 15 minutes,” Renjun says, sticking his toothbrush in his mouth. “Please don’t speak to me.”

Jaemin doesn’t. He shrugs and goes back into his room and closes the door, and several minutes later Renjun hears him leave his room, walking down the hallway. Someone close by coughs.

Renjun grabs his bag and leaves for class. The autumn wind bites.

…

Renjun first met Jaemin during a college tour in the spring of his senior year of high school. He had been at some small college in the middle of the mountains, not even a choice he had seriously considered. It was private, it was expensive, it was secluded away from everything else in the area. There weren’t a lot of things that had drawn him to it, apart from his counselor’s insistence that he branch out and visit it. He had applied on a whim.

The first time Renjun saw Jaemin he was standing in the library during the tour. There were several other boys with him, each wearing a blue jersey and shorts, and each was loud and rowdy. They had all signed to the soccer team.

One of the soccer players bumped into him as he pushed through the crowd, head down. The soccer player looked at him, frowning. He blinked several times before extending a hand, a portrait of friendliness.

“I’m sorry,” he said, smiling. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Renjun grumbled. He adjusted the bag around his shoulders and looked at the boy, and his first thought was that anyone with a smile like that should never frown.

“I’m Jaemin,” the boy said. “I hope to see you again!”

Renjun had brushed past him. He had not intended to come back, but fate often does not care what one intends.

Fate likes to play tricks on Renjun. He had not intended to go back to the small college in the mountains, a tiny place known as Haven University, but they offered him a full ride because of his grades. He had thought on it, really thought, but in the end, he figured he’d give it a shot. Free tuition? What else could beat that? 

He had not _intended_ to be there, but he found himself there anyway. The mountains were a far cry from the bustling city where he grew up in, the roads nearly empty at every hour of the day. He thought that would be it—a quiet college town surrounded by silent mountains. When he visited in the spring it buzzed with wildflowers and grass, almost idyllic. Maybe this was fine. Different, but good.

Fate thinks it’s funny. It likes to play pranks. 

Renjun moved into his dorm room on the first day of orientation, staring at the single bed and the view of the mountains just outside his window. He looked down the bathroom into the connecting room and heard moving furniture and music.

“Hey,” Renjun said, popping his head through the doorway. The only person in the room, a lanky boy with brown hair, looked up at him. “I’m Renjun, your suitemate. I just wanted to say hi.”

The boy smiled, and Renjun was hit with a wave of recognition.

“I’m Jaemin,” the boy said, and his smile was enough to make Renjun pause. “Nice to meet you, Renjun.”

Fate thinks it’s funny. Renjun disagrees.

…

It gets colder.

“Come on, Renjun,” Chenle says over the phone. “Please tell me you’re doing _fun_ college things. _Please_.”

“I go to class.”

“That’s not fun.”

“Maybe not,” Renjun says, phone pressed to his ear. “But it’s what I do.”

“Go do something else!” Chenle says, exasperated. Renjun can hear cars on the other end of the line, beeping. He feels a pang of homesickness, and for once misses the chaos of the city. “Go to a party or something. Do it for _me.”_

Outside the open window, Renjun can hear voices shouting in the parking lot below, loud and raucous. He stands and peers out the window, watching several soccer players kick a soccer ball back and forth between the parked cars. A familiar head of brown hair is nowhere to be found.

“Don’t you have homework or something?” Renjun asks, shifting his phone to rest on his shoulder as he goes to close the window. 

“I’m watching Netflix right now,” Chenle says. “I'm not boring like you.”

Renjun smiles to himself. “Don’t fall behind.”

Chenle snorts. “Okay, _mom_.”

There is a click as Chenle hangs up the phone, and Renjun is left staring at the wall in silence. He can hear shouting from outside and opens his window, this time to yell. The soccer players all look at him and Renjun doesn’t recall what he says. He slams the window shut as the wind gusts in, leaves flattening themselves against the glass.

He hears coughing in the next room.

…

Here’s a fun fact about Haven University: it’s in the middle of nowhere. Sometimes that doesn’t bother Renjun. Sometimes it does.

Renjun walks along the small, leaf-filled path through the woods that surround the campus, the path a steep incline as it goes up and over the mountain, ascending and descending like a curving ramp. For a brief moment, Renjun wonders what would happen if he lost his balance and went skidding down the steep drop of the mountain. He’d probably break his leg, and who would even find him? He could rot there, become just a corpse, a skeleton—

Renjun shakes his head. He kicks some leaves on the path and they swirl down the incline. Renjun hears footsteps ahead on the path, and a moment later he sees Jaemin in a T-shirt and sweatpants, jogging from the other side. He slows when he sees Renjun, pulling out an earbud.

“Renjun!” Jaemin beams at him and Renjun scowls. 

“Hello,” Renjun says curtly. “How are you?” 

“Good,” Jaemin says cheerfully. “It’s a nice day.”

The chill seeping through Renjun’s shirt suggests otherwise. He thinks of the coughing he has heard from Jaemin’s room and frowns. 

“Shouldn’t you be wearing a sweater or something? What about your cough?”

Jaemin tilts his head. “Cough?”

“I’ve been hearing you cough a lot,” Renjun says. “You know, when you’re in your room.”

“I haven’t been coughing,” Jaemin says. His eyes are dark. “You must be mistaken.”

“I know I’m not,” Renjun says kicking some more of the leaves. “Who else could it be?”

“It could be a ghost,” Jaemin says seriously. Renjun laughs.

“I don’t believe in ghosts,” Renjun says curtly. “They aren’t real.”

“Say what you want,” Jaemin replies, shrugging. Renjun catches a glimpse of a black line under the sleeve of his shirt. “Just because you don’t believe doesn’t mean they don’t exist.”

Renjun snorts. “What are you, a ghost hunter?”

Jaemin looks at him for a long moment, eyes hard and just a little mean, before shaking his head. “You don’t understand.”

Renjun has to agree. He doesn’t understand.

Leaves swirl around them and Jaemin looks past him. “I’ll see you around,” he tells Renjun, putting his earbud back in. Renjun watches him vanish down the path, back to where he just was. He looks up at the darkening sky and then heads back down the trail.

…

Renjun is walking to chemistry class when he realizes he should have packed more warm clothing. The wind is strong today, not a cool breeze but an icy gust that threatens to knock him off his feet. He lowers his head and keeps walking, bracing himself against the chill. He watches leaves move along the sidewalk, buoyed into the air.

The wind picks up behind him, almost howling. Renjun resists the urge to run and adjusts the straps of his backpack, looking behind him at the leaves swirling in the air and across the pavement. They sweep past him like a flock of birds, each one russet and red and orange and yellow. The bell of the church down the street tolls, loud and deep, and Renjun can feel something deep in his chest shiver. He is cold but not _that_ cold _._

The wind howls, no, screams, and Renjun squints up at the gray sky. The air seems to be growing colder and colder, inching down his spine and seeping through his jacket. He walks forward quickly, head down and braced against the wind. The edge of a leaf brushes against his face as it is buoyed aloft by the wind, and Renjun watches it tremble as it goes higher.

The bell is still tolling. It is almost noon but the sky is so unbelievably dark that it feels like the evening, the very ending of the day and not the middle.

He looks behind him and the leaves are still skittering across the sidewalk and into the air, but now there seems an almost pattern, a form to their movement. They seem to move in circles, looping around and around as the wind swirls and howls. Renjun pauses, watching the wind pick the leaves up and spin them, almost perfectly suspended.

The wind bites into his skin as he steps closer to the leaves, closer to the wind he was trying so hard to escape before. A leaf breaks free from the tiny spinning storm and hits his chest, stuck for a moment before it is flung away by the wind. It’s bright yellow against his black jacket, out of place like a splash of paint.

The leaves are swirling closer to him, closer and closer, and as he steps forward the air begins to grow to an unbearable chill. It is biting and harsh, more like needles than wind.

Renjun isn’t quite sure what he’s doing. He knows he has class in fifteen minutes but here he is, walking in the opposite direction of where he intends to be, reaching out to the swirling leaves as if he could touch them, as if he could—

Something grabs his wrist and he turns to see Jaemin, frowning at him slightly. Renjun feels the wind die down, sees leaves brush past his feet as the wind releases its hold on them. He pulls his wrist away from Jaemin, inhaling sharply.

“What are you doing?” Jaemin asks, brown hair tousled by the wind, his thick navy jacket protecting him from the cold much better than Renjun’s denim one.

“What does it matter to you?” Renjun snaps, readjusting his backpack on his shoulders. 

Jaemin tilts his head and looks over Renjun’s shoulder, at the spot where the leaves were swirling before. “I just saw you standing there. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Renjun says curtly. Jaemin glances over his shoulder again and Renjun resists the urge to turn around to find out what he’s looking at. “I’m going to class.”

“Let's walk together,” Jaemin says brightly, draping an arm over Renjun’s shoulder as they head to the science building. “We _do_ have class together, remember?”

“How could I forget,” Renjun grumbles, the weight of Jaemin’s arm unfamiliar but not unpleasant.The leaves blow across the ground behind them.

_How could I forget?_

Renjun ignores the feeling that he is forgetting something.

...

Jaemin comes back to the dorm late that night, and Renjun can hear the creaking of his door quite clearly from where he is lying on his bed. He hears running water from the bathroom and then the soft groaning of bedsprings. 

Renjun hears Jaemin’s voice through the wall, soft and insistent. At first, Renjun thinks he has one of his soccer friends over, but he soon realizes that he hears no voice responding. It is just Jaemin, pausing as if he is listening and then speaking again. 

Renjun sits up in bed and presses his ear to the wall.

“He’s not that bad,” Jaemin says. There’s a pause. “No. I don’t think he knows.”

Another pause, and this time Jaemin’s voice is even quieter. “Watch out for him, okay? Can you do that for me?”

Silence. Renjun’s ears strain to catch another voice in the room, but he hears nothing. There is a long moment of silence, and finally, Renjun hears Jaemin’s voice again.

“Thank you. Good night.”

Renjun hears a rustling and the sound of bedsprings. He thinks that maybe Jaemin was on the phone, the volume turned down all the way. He lies back down, staring at the ceiling. He hears Jaemin cough.

Renjun closes his eyes. Outside, the wind howls.

…

Autumn is colder here. Renjun figures it has something to do with the mountains that surround the area, the ones that the college is built right between, rising up on either side like monoliths. Some mornings Renjun can see fog right over the edge of the mountain, like a pot that is about to bubble over, but the fog never quite makes it past.

Someone in his biology class once told him that the amount of fog determines the amount of snow they’ll get in the winter. If that is true, Renjun imagines he will be snowed in here for the rest of his life.

Time drags by slowly, like it usually does. Jaemin doesn’t speak to him, and when he does it is in short phrases, always with the feeling that he would want to be somewhere else. 

Renjun is sitting in an alcove in the library when another student slides into the seat across from him. Renjun looks up from his notebook at the stranger, a boy about his age with blonde hair and a thick coat.

The boy smiles shyly at him. “Hello. Do you do chemistry tutoring?”

Renjun raises an eyebrow. “I do. Do you need help?”

“Yeah,” the boy says. Renjun waits for a second.

“Is there something specific you need?” Renjun asks. The boy looks back at him, eyes wide. He still hasn't told Renjun his name.

“Um…” the boy looks around. “Valence electrons?”

Renjun fishes his laptop out of his backpack and glances over at the boy. He seems unnaturally pale, almost translucent in the light of the lamp hanging above their heads. His hands are folded in front of him on the table, covered by thick knit gloves.

“What’s your name?” Renjun asks, booting up his computer.

“Oh, I’m Jisung.” The boy gives Renjun a small, crooked smile. 

“Are you a freshman?”

“Well,” Jisung starts, pausing. “Technically. I’m actually doing dual enrollment, so I’m still in high school. I take classes here a couple of times a week.”

Renjun nods but there is something strange about Jisung, maybe something even a bit unsettling about the way he sits so still as he watches Renjun flip through diagrams and charts. He does not take off his gloves.

Renjun is right in the middle of explaining pi orbitals when Jisung suddenly stands, eyes wide. Renjun gives him a questioning look and Jisung opens his mouth, stammering an apology.

“I’m sorry, I just remembered—I just remembered I have to be somewhere. Thanks for your help!” Jisung stammers before turning to run out of the library. Renjun watches the doors close behind him, the light leaving a strange impression of him in the darkness between the shelves. He realizes that Jisung didn't even tell him his last name.

Renjun hears someone cough. He packs up his things and heads back to his room, the feeling of being watched following him like a phantom.

…

It takes three tries for Renjun to open his room door. He drops his keys the first time, inserts them wrong the second, and accidentally jams them the third.

When he finally opens his door, he immediately registers the soft crunch of leaves whispering along the floor. He stands in the doorway for a moment, mouth gaping, hand still on the doorknob.

The floor of his room is carpeted with a thick blanket of leaves, red and gold and orange and crunching beneath his feet. Renjun kicks at a few of them and they flutter into the air, serene and unbothered. 

Renjun slams the door shut behind him and drops his bag onto the floor, surrounded by crunching autumn leaves. The leaves are _everywhere,_ sitting on his shelves and resting on his bed.

"Jaemin!" Renjun yells down the connecting bathroom as he picks up bunches of leaves in his hands. "This isn't funny!" 

There is no response. Renjun huffs and goes to the window, opening it as wide as he can, wincing against the chilly air that blasts through. He gathers armfuls of leaves and throws them out the window, watching them slowly flutter three stories to the ground.

Renjun looks at the rest of the leaves, fists clenched. " _Jaemin!"_

There is still no response. Renjun throws more leaves out the window and watches them descend to the earth like they had never even left it, swaying and absolutely silent.

…

"You're a jerk, Na Jaemin," Renjun spits when he sees Jaemin in the dining hall. "You're a no-good _jerk_."

Jaemin looks up at him, surrounded by several soccer players who whisper amongst themselves about the boy with his palms flat against the table and murder in his eyes.

"What did _I_ do?" Jaemin asks.

"Don't pretend you're innocent," Renjun snaps. "You filled my room with leaves! There were at least 5 inches of leaves covering my floor when I got back from the library this morning!"

Jaemin gives him a long, disturbed look. "I didn't put leaves in your room."

"Then who did?" Renjun says mockingly. "A ghost?"

Jaemin suddenly looks very pale. He narrows his eyes. "Don't joke about such things."

“Whatever,” Renjun says, seething. “Stay out of my room.”

He turns and leaves the cafeteria, Jaemin’s pensive stare eating through his thoughts.

 _It is getting too cold around here_ , Renjun thinks.

...

The semester continues to drag by. Renjun spends long hours in his room wading through his online assignments, seemingly endless in every way. He sighs and closes his laptop.

Renjun hears a cough, and then something that sounds like crying.

“Jaemin?” Renjun leans back in his chair, yelling down the narrow room they consider a bathroom. The light is off.

Renjun hears a closet door slam and then a pitiful sob, something that sounds like it was yanked straight from one’s heart. He stands and looks through the bathroom, cautiously approaching the sound.

“Jaemin?” He asks again. “Are you okay?”

He stands at the doorway to Jaemin’s room and peeks inside. The curtains are drawn. The sobbing has faded into silence.

Renjun blinks. There is no one there.

…

That night Jaemin has a couple of his friends from soccer over and Renjun can hear them in the next room, yelling and laughing over loud music. Renjun flips a page in his textbook and rubs at his eyes with the backs of his hands. The white light produced by the lamp at the edge of his desk has a strangely calming effect, and Renjun struggles to stay awake. Exhaustion seeps into the corners of his vision, causing all the words and diagrams in his textbook to bleed together into one big blur.

Renjun closes his textbook and stands, going to the window. There isn’t anyone in the parking lot tonight, nobody yelling on the sidewalk so Renjun pushes his window open, the wood creaking in its frame. A cool autumn breeze spreads throughout the room.

Renjun hears footsteps in the connecting bathroom and turns to see a boy he doesn’t know grinning at him from the doorway. He raises a hand in a half-wave, his blue soccer shirt the brightest color in the room. 

“You’re Jaemin’s friend, right? Nice to meet you!” The boy smiles. “Wanna join us?”

“Oh, I’m good,” Renjun says, not sure exactly what to say. The boy seems nice enough, with his friendly smile and tan skin, but Renjun feels so tired he isn’t sure he would be good company. Already, irritation is picking away at his thoughts.

“Come on bro, leave him alone.” Jaemin pokes his head through the doorway. “Hey, Renjun!”

“Hello,” Renjun says, sitting back down at his desk. The other boy vanishes. “It sounds like you’re having fun over there.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about all the noise.” Jaemin looks at the floor, rubbing the back of his neck. “Donghyuck gets a little out of hand whenever we play Sicko Mode.”

Renjun raises an eyebrow. Something in Jaemin’s room crashes to the floor. 

“Cut it out, guys!” Jaemin yells towards his room. He looks back at Renjun. “You usually go to sleep around this time,” he says. “I can tell them to shut up, if you’d like.”

“It’s okay.” Renjun stretches. “I’m gonna be up late tonight doing this stupid homework.”

Jaemin comes into the room a little more, looking at the textbook on Renjun’s desk. “Is it for chemistry?”

“Yeah,” Renjun sighs. “I feel like I’m chewing on concrete.”

Something else in Jaemin’s room hits the floor, and this time Renjun can hear a chorus of _oh no’s_ echo through the wall. Jaemin grimaces.

“Well,” he says. “I know you’ll ace it. I believe in you.”

He ducks back through the bathroom and Renjun feels a strange warmth in his chest. He turns back to his textbook, the ghost of a smile on his lips and the sound of crashing ceramic coming from next door.

…

That night a shriek resounds through the wall and jolts Renjun awake, heart racing at the sound. He lies in bed for a moment wondering if it was real or just a dream, and hears frantic murmuring through the wall, as if someone is having a nightmare. He sits up, pressing an ear to the wall.

He hears a breathless shout, almost a pained scream, and bolts out of bed, cautiously walking through the dark bathroom into Jaemin’s room. He can make out nothing but outlines—the desk, the dresser, the bed. He sees Jaemin turn over, still asleep, speaking frantically.

“Jaemin,” Renjun says softly, hand hovering over Jaemin’s shoulder. “”Wake up.”

Jaemin doesn’t respond, stuck muttering in his sleep. Renjun can't understand what he's saying but it sounds urgent, like a message that must be delivered.

“Jaemin, you gotta wake up—”

Jaemin screams, lurching forward. Renjun grabs his shoulders and finds that he’s shaking.

“Wake up!” Renjun whispers loudly. “Jaemin!”

Jaemin’s eyes snap open and for a second they are unseeing, open but blank. Jaemin’s chest is heaving as he looks at Renjun, hand coming up to rest on Renjun’s.

Renjun fumbles for the desk lamp and switches it on, flooding the room with pale yellow light. Jaemin’s hair is damp with sweat, and his chest is bare.

“What happened?” Jaemin’s voice is bleary with sleep.

“You were screaming in your sleep,” Renjun says, pulling his hand away from Jaemin’s bare shoulder. He sees the edge of a black line on his bicep and frowns.

Jaemin turns his arm a little. “What?”

“I just didn't realize you had a tattoo.”

But there it is: an eye rendered in simple lines, a circle resting between two curves. It gives Renjun an uneasy feeling—the feeling of being watched.

Jaemin takes a deep shuddering breath. “I’m sorry for waking you,” he says.

“It’s okay,” Renjun says, looking at the small clock on the desk. It's a little past 3 am. “Goodnight, Jaemin.”

…

“Renjun!” 

Renjun turns to see a familiar face, this time beneath a thick black hat. Jisung is bundled up beyond belief, his hands gloved. He’s smiling.

“I just wanted to say thanks for your help. I aced my test!” Jisung beams at him.

“That’s great,” Renjun says. “How are you?”

“Good.” Jisung shoves his hands into the pockets of his heavy jacket. “What about you?”

Renjun shrugs. It’s the only answer he can give.

They walk for a while, and Renjun finds that even though Jisung is a few years younger than him, he’s strangely observant. There’s a maturity that weaves its way into his words, even though he looks like a black fabric marshmallow. 

Renjun spots a familiar blue jersey and navy jacket across the lawn and watches Jaemin walk towards them, head down and eyes glued to his phone. He almost runs into Renjun, only looking up when he clears his throat.

“Watch where you’re going,” Renjun says. Jaemin gives him an easy smile, eyes flicking over to Jisung. He nods at the younger boy.

“It was nice seeing you,” Jisung says, blinking confusedly at Jaemin as he adjusts his backpack. “I’ll see you around!” 

He takes off down the sidewalk, all gangly limbs and thick fabric, and Renjun turns to Jaemin. 

“Can we talk?”

“About what?”

Jaemin shrugs. “How have you been?”

Renjun tilts his head, confused. “The same as I've always been,” he says slowly. “Why do you ask?”

“Just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” Jaemin says, looking across the lawn. He waves at a group of boys in navy jackets, glancing at Renjun.

“I'll see you around!” he says cheerfully, waving as he walks away. Renjun waves back, unsure.

Jaemin’s smile is warm, but the air does not grow any less cold.

…

“Is he okay?”

Renjun presses his ear to the wall and hears Jaemin’s voice but no one else’s.

“I know. I can tell. He’s really something, isn’t he.”

Renjun pulls his blanket around his shoulders, quietly, as to not disturb the silence in his room. He hears a rustling noise and then a cough.

“He means well,” Jaemin says. “He’s just not ready.”

 _Who?_ Renjun thinks, the thought numb and tired, quietly fading. _Who’s not ready?_

“I’ll do the best I can,” Jaemin says solemnly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

Silence.

“Goodnight.” Jaemin’s voice is a barely audible hush. Renjun lies back down, and as soon as his head hits his pillow he’s asleep.

…

That night, Renjun dreams he is falling. The world has simply vanished beneath him and all he can do is tumble endlessly downward past infinite stone peaks, racing towards a ground that seems farther and farther away the longer he falls.

Someone grabs his hand, whispering. Renjun strains his ears trying to hear but he can't, the words barely a current in the air.

 _Renjun,_ the voice says. _You have to trust me_.

“I do,” Renjun says, the voice slowly fading away. “I do.”

Just as he hits the ground his eyes snap open, his room retaining the afterimage of mountains. He blinks a couple times and then lets sleep pull him back under.

…

There’s a girl sitting on the grass behind the science building.

Renjun leaves the building and sees the girl just as he feels Jaemin pass by him, glance brief. He pauses, watching her push dark hair behind her ear.

The girl looks up from where she is playing with blades of grass on the ground. The leaves form a ragged circle around her, stark against the fading gray-green of the dying grass. Her dress is a pale pink and her shoes have small pink bows balanced on their white leather. She smiles at him, holding out a blade of grass. She can’t be any older than ten years old.

“Do you want to play with me?” She asks, eyes glittering. There’s something slightly watered down about her, the pink of her dress and the white of her shoes washing out her complexion. 

Renjun sits down next to her on the grass. He figures she’s one of the professor’s children, just hanging around until classes are over. There isn’t any harm in indulging a child, he thinks.

“Sure,” Renjun says. “What are you doing?”

“I’m making a bracelet,” the girl says, and Renjun sees that she has a woven ring of grass around her wrist. The design is stunningly intricate, almost unbelievably so when he looks at her tiny hands and fingers.

“That’s beautiful,” Renjun says. “Where did you learn to do that?”

The girl shrugs, pulling up more grass. She looks at him with wide, dark eyes. “Would you like one?”

“Can you show me how you do it?”

The girl smiles brightly and pulls up several blades of grass, holding them up to Renjun’s wrist to make sure they are long enough. And then, slowly, she begins to weave them together, over and over like a lattice or a braid. Renjun watches, trying to recall the movements in his head, but he cannot.

The little girl holds up the woven grass to his wrist and then ties it tightly. The blades of grass feel strong, almost unbreakable. She smiles at her handiwork. 

“It’s good luck,” she says. She suddenly looks very solemn, as if she is not just a little girl. 

“Don’t ever take it off.”

“I won’t,” Renjun says, but the little girl places a hand on his and frowns.

“You have to promise,” she says seriously. “Promise you won’t take it off.”

Renjun pauses. “I promise,” he says slowly. “I won’t take it off.”

The girl smiles brightly, all traces of seriousness vanishing from her face. “Great!” She stands up and brushes off her dress. “I have to go now.”

“Where are your parents?” Renjun asks, looking around. “Do they work here?”

“No,” she says. “I live past the woods.” She points to the bare trees at the edge of campus.

“Do you want me to walk you back?”

The girl giggles. “No, silly. You’ll get lost!”

Renjun stands just as the girl begins walking away. She turns and waves at him before disappearing into the trees. “Bye!”

Renjun waves back, feeling uneasy as the pink of her dress vanishes among the forest. 

The wind blows and leaves crowd around his feet, covering the small space of grass that the girl had occupied before. In a moment, there is no trace to show that she was even there.

...

“Are you good?”

Jaemin looks up at Renjun, a hand pressed to his nose. Renjun pulls a tissue out of his backpack, and when Jaemin reaches out to grab it Renjun sees his hand is smeared red

Jaemin presses the tissue to his nose and it quickly stains red. “Yeah. This just happens sometimes. Thanks for the tissue.”

Jaemin looks back at his laptop, tissue clenched in his hand. The professor is droning on and Renjun finds himself unable to focus, zoning out. He shakes himself out of his stupor and sees that all he’s drawn on his notebook is a series of eyes, each looking back at him, their black ink lines stark on the white paper.

Renjun quickly turns the page.

A chill blows through the lecture hall and Renjun looks up from where he is doodling in his notebook to see if someone has opened a window or a door. The professor is still lecturing, going on and on about molarity and mass ratios but Renjun can _feel_ the wind, can feel the cold seeping into his skin. All the windows and doors are closed.

A bright yellow leaf slides past his foot, carried by a breeze that has no source. He bends down to pick it up, and it crunches between his fingers. He places it on his notebook, intending to trace it or maybe even flatten it to preserve its color, but he pauses. He looks up and sees Jaemin looking at him, eyes wide and face pale. He’s about to snap at him and tell him to mind his own business when Jaemin clamps a hand over his mouth and stands before running out of the hall. Renjun frowns as he watches the door shut behind him, not even one student turning to see him leave. 

Class ends and Renjun looks down and sees Jaemin’s backpack still hanging off the back of his chair. He waits a few minutes as students leave the classroom in herds, loud and unaware. He closes his notebook and grabs his backpack and Jaemin’s, heading out the doors.

He pauses in the doorway a moment, looking over his shoulder. He feels as if someone is watching him.

…

The plan is to find Jaemin and give him his backpack while giving the glare of annoyance that Renjun usually reserves just for him. When he gets into the hall he doesn’t see Jaemin anywhere and spends several seconds just standing in the hall, slowly turning. He heads to the bathroom and pushes open the door, unsure.

“Jaemin?” Renjun asks the empty bathroom. “Are you in here?”

Silence and then a soft, sick sound. “Get out of here,” Jaemin says from one of the stalls.

“You forgot your backpack and you were gone for quite a while so I thought that you’d forgotten it,” Renjun says, standing outside the stall. “I was just gonna give it to you.”

“Thanks,” Jaemin says, and Renjun can hear coughing. “Now leave.”

“Are you okay?” Renjun places his hand on the door and hears Jaemin cough again, the sound grating and ugly.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just—”

Jaemin begins to cough, the sound labored. Renjun can see Jaemin’s shadow shift and he bangs on the stall door.

“Are you sick? What’s wrong?”

“I’m _fine,”_ Jaemin says, but his voice is hoarse. “Renjun, please—”

“Let me in or I’ll beat your ass,” Renjun hisses. “You are definitely not fine.”

“Renjun—”

Renjun places their backpacks on the floor and kicks the stall door, over and over again until he can hear the hinges rattling. “Let me _in._ ”

Renjun hears a click and the door cracks open, Jaemin looking out at him. His face is plastered with sweat and his skin is unbelievably pale. His eyes have a feverish glaze to them, making them seem unnaturally bright.

“I’m fine,” Jaemin murmurs hoarsely. “See?”

Renjun pulls the door open and Jaemin gives him a weak smile. It lasts only a second before he starts coughing, bending over and falling to his knees. There’s blood on his lips. Renjun drops to his knees beside him, grabbing his shoulders.

“Jaemin, you’re sick! You need to go to the clinic!”

Jaemin gives him an annoyed look that Renjun would usually bristle at, but when paired with the pallor of his skin and the blood smeared on his cheek, it loses its burn. “I’m not going to the clinic.”

“Are you kidding me? You’re literally coughing up blood—”

Jaemin leans backward until he’s lying on the bathroom floor, staring upwards. He looks exhausted, as if something has drained all the energy from his body. He coughs a couple of times, chest rising and falling as if he has been shocked. He smiles slightly, as if he's about to laugh.

Renjun kneels over him, placing a hand on his forehead. “You’re burning up.”

“Go away,” Jaemin whispers. He is not looking at Renjun but at some point in the distance, over Renjun’s shoulder. Renjun turns, but there is no one there.

“What?”

“Leave us alone.” Jaemin coughs again, eyes fixed on something Renjun cannot see. “Go _away._ ”

“Who are you talking to?” Renjun asks, Jaemin’s skin burning under his hand. “Who’s there?”

There is no one there, Renjun realizes. Jaemin is talking to no one.

…

Jaemin doesn’t go to the clinic. Instead he insists on returning to his room, slinging his backpack over his shoulders and stumbling out of the bathroom with Renjun trailing behind him. 

“Are you sick?” Renjun asks, watching Jaemin cough into his sleeve. “What’s wrong?”

“I said I’m fine,” Jaemin responds, voice gravelly. “This just happens.”

“Why?” Renjun grabs his arm. “Talk to me.”

Jaemin stops walking for a second, forehead creased. His eyes are dark. 

“There are things you don’t understand, and I can’t explain them to you,” Jaemin says, his words harsher than they have ever been. Renjun recoils from the coldness in his voice, letting go of his arm. “Stop asking questions if you aren't ready for answers.”

Renjun stares at him, fist curled, heart racing. “You’re in pain. I’m trying to _help_ you.”

“Worry about yourself, first,” Jaemin says, but his words are not unkind. They almost sound cautionary. Jaemin turns away and Renjun watches him walk down the sidewalk, growing smaller and smaller in the distance. Fading.

Renjun watches a leaf brush past his shoe, catching itself in his shoelace. He pulls it free and watches it whip away with the wind, gone in the air.

Fading.

…

Renjun does not hate Jaemin. That's the worst part.

When he gets back to his room after his last class he finds that Jaemin is nowhere to be found next door. He stays up the better part of the night waiting for him to come back, fearing that something awful has happened. He wakes up the next morning slumped over his desk, a jacket that is not his draped over his shoulders.

Jaemin’s bed is still made. No one has slept there all night.

Renjun does not hate Jaemin, but the truth is too much to bear.

…

“Jisung,” Renjun says, paging slowly through his textbook. “Do you know Na Jaemin?”

Jisung shifts uncomfortably in his seat, glancing around the library. “No.”

“Are you sure?” Renjun asks, looking up. “I thought you recognized him that one day on campus.”

“No,” Jisung says, looking down and pulling at the thread on his gloves. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.” He looks at Renjun’s wrist. “Nice bracelet.”

Renjun looks at his wrist, surprised to see the grass bracelet the girl had given him. He had thought it had fallen off somewhere, but it is still there, graying as it dries.

“Thanks,” Renjun says, covering it with his hand. “But I need you to tell me the truth. Do you know Jaemin?”

Jisung looks to the side. “What if I do? What’s so important?”

“Do you know what’s wrong with him?”

Jisung says nothing, pulling his hands into his lap. “No.”

“But there is something wrong, right?” Renjun presses, leaning forwards.

“I didn’t say that,” Jisung says quietly.

“I think he’s in trouble or something,” Renjun whispers. “I think he needs help.”

Jisung snorts, but his eyes are sad. “I think you should worry about yourself first.”

Renjun watches Jisung stand, the creak of his chair loud in the silent library. “Do you know something?”

“No.” Jisung’s words are soft. He pulls at the thread on his gloves. “I don’t.”

He walks out of the library, and Renjun gets the disconcerting feeling that he is always being left behind.

…

The air grows colder and the trees all lose their leaves, becoming bare skeletons of what they were before. Renjun walks the narrow trail in the woods, kicking at the leaves that crowd the narrow path. A branch skids down the steep drop on the side of the trail, crashing into the leaves below.

Renjun listens to the heavy silence, wondering why there is no sound coming from the forest. He hears no birds, no animals in the underbrush, not even the sound of leaves scraping against bark. Even the wind has stopped, leaving everything eerily still.

Somewhere in the woods, a girl laughs. 

“Hello?” Renjun walks forward, listening. “Is there someone there?”

“Hi, Renjun!” Someone says, their voice carrying. It’s the voice of a little girl, high and giddy.

Renjun follows the sound of her voice up until the point the trail vanishes beneath the leaves, leading him to a small clearing. The ground here is covered with thick piles of fallen leaves, the ground a shifting sea of red and orange and yellow. Renjun cautiously steps forward, listening to them crunch in the silence.

“Hello?” The laughter continues, somehow close and not. It seems to echo around Renjun like he is underwater. For a brief moment, Renjun wonders if the little girl from before is hiding somewhere amongst the bare trees. He steps forward and his foot hits something hard, hidden among the leaves. He bends down to brush it off, revealing a raised stone slab. Renjun steps back, trying to understand.

The first thing he notices, besides the fact that he’s looking at a small headstone, is that there’s a small woven bracelet hanging off the edge of it, the grass dried and brown. Renjun frowns at it, looking at the one on his wrist. Was the little girl here before? He steps closer to the tombstone and sees more bracelets, dozens of them littering the base of the stone. Some of them have flowers woven into their design, others are woven with bits of trash string amongst the dying brown.

Renjun picks one up, the dried grass crinkling between his fingers. He looks down at the tombstone and brushes away the dirt.

**Yeon**

Renjun looks at the name, eyebrows creased. 

“She likes grass,” a voice says from behind him. Renjun turns, dropping the bracelet and sees Jaemin standing among the trees. His hands are shoved deep in his pockets, and his eyes are fixed on the tiny stone tombstone.

“Who does?” Renjun says, looking back at the tombstone.

“Yeon.” Jaemin steps forward and pulls something out of his pocket. It is a small bracelet made of grass, freshly green and supple. He rests it at the base of the stone, a bright green jewel among the brown. He looks tired but not like he did the other day, his eyes brighter than the hallowed shadows they were before.

“Did you leave all of these?” Renjun asks. 

“I left most of them,” Jaemin says. “It makes her feel less lonely.”

“You talk like she’s still alive.”

Jaemin points at the bracelet on Renjun’s wrist. “I would say she is.”

“This was given to me by a little girl playing on campus,” Renjun says covering his wrist with his other hand. “And _she_ was very much alive.”

Jaemin shrugs, sitting in front of the grave. He looks up at Renjun. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I heard someone laughing,” Renjun says. “I was worried someone was lost.”

“Hm.” Jaemin pulls several blades of grass out of the ground and begins weaving them together. It is exactly the same method the little girl used to make Renjun’s bracelet.

“Who taught you that?”

“Yeon.”

Renjun groans. “Ghosts don’t _exist_ Jaemin. They aren’t _real_. Did the little girl teach you?”

Jaemin stays silent, weaving. Renjun sits down next to him, the ground slightly damp and soaking into his jeans. 

A heavy moment of silence passes between them, and then finally Jaemin whispers. “She’s here right now, you know. You just can’t see her.”

Renjun feels a cold wind pass by him and a strange sensation of lightness in his chest.

“You can’t be serious,” Renjun says, but something tightens in his chest.

Jaemin shrugs and continues to weave, even as Renjun turns to leave the forest behind.

…

Renjun sees the little girl a week later, sitting on the grass in her pale pink dress and white leather shoes. She’s braiding grass, and little grass bracelets cover her arms and wrists. She looks up at Renjun, smiling.

“Hello!” She says. “Are you still wearing your bracelet?”

Renjun looks down at his wrist and the fading grass bracelet, still more vibrant than the grass around them. “Yes.”

“Good.” The little girl busies herself with the fuzzy head of a dandelion, blowing away the white seed until there is nothing but the stem. She weaves this in with her grass.

Renjun sits down beside her. “Hey, what's your name?”

The girl looks at him and laughs. “Come on, Renjun. You know that already.”

The girl smiles and Renjun thinks he sees a pallor that is caused less by the dim gray sky and more by something that comes from within the little girl herself. It’s something more than her pink dress and white shoes. It’s something in her smile. It's something in her eyes.

Renjun pauses. “Yeon?”

The girl laughs, and in the time that it takes Renjun to blink, she has already disappeared.

…

Jaemin seems to take up all the space in Renjun’s small room, even though he is just standing in the doorway. 

“Can we talk?”

“You keep asking me that but you never seem to say anything,” Renjun replies, lying on his bed with a book. “But sure, I guess.”

Jaemin takes a deep breath and enters the room, pulling out the chair at Renjun’s desk. “Do you ever feel unsafe here?”

Renjun peers at Jaemin over his book, about to laugh until he sees the serious expression on Jaemin’s face. He sits up. 

“No,” Renjun says, feeling uncomfortable under the scrutiny of Jaemin’s gaze. It’s not a lie, but it's not a truth either. Renjun feels he is caught in a type of limbo between safety and danger, yet he cannot distinguish the two. He is trapped in a valley between two mountains, too far away from home to think of it.

“I’m gonna say this as bluntly as I can,” Jaemin says. “I think you should leave here.”

Renjun snorts. “What is this, bullying? I'm not going anywhere.”

“Listen to me,” Jaemin says. “I know you don't really like me, and I know you're not going to believe what I say, but you have to hear this: you’re in danger here.”

“If you know something, why won’t you tell me?”

“Because I know you won’t believe me.” 

Renjun looks out the window at the graying sky. The sunlight seems to be dimmer, as if it is filtered through a lampshade. “You keep saying that. It's getting annoying.”

“Renjun, _listen to me_ .” Jaemin’s voice has an unwavering surety to it. “You are being haunted. I can _see_ it.”

“How many times do I have to say this,” Renjun says, turning slowly. “I don’t believe in ghosts. They aren’t _real_ , Jaemin.”

“Just because you don’t believe in them doesn’t mean they aren’t real,” Jaemin says. His voice is quiet. “That day...that day in chemistry class, I _saw_ it standing beside you. It had its hand clasped around your neck as if it—as if it intended to break it.”

Renjun feels a chill crawl up his spine, something that feels oddly like a hand. 

“Well? What did it look like?” Renjun crosses his arms over his chest. He suddenly feels very cold.

Jaemin’s eyes are glassy. “It didn't have a shape,” he murmurs. “It was like a shadow. An awful, terrible shadow.”

Renjun sighs. “Why should I believe anything you say? Do you have any proof?”

“You know what I’m saying is true." Jaemin stands. “Please—fall break is coming soon, no one will mind if you leave a little early—”

“I’m not leaving because you think I’m being _haunted,_ ” Renjun spits, swinging his legs off the bed. “I don’t know if this is some stupid soccer player _prank_ but I can tell you right now it’s not very funny.”

“I knew you wouldn’t believe me—”

“Get out of my room.”

“You have to listen to me, please—”

“No, I don’t.” Renjun walks to the door. “Get out.”

Jaemin grabs his shoulders. “Renjun, you’ll get hurt. Don’t you understand? You’ll get _hurt.”_

He looks up at Jaemin, at the fear glazing his eyes. He feels a knot form in his chest, right over his heart. When he speaks, his voice comes out in a low whisper. “Let go of me.”

Jaemin steps back, his face pale. He seems almost surprised by his own actions. His words sound forced. “I’m sorry, but even if you don't believe me I am still telling the truth.”

Renjun thinks of Yeon and her watchful childlike eyes, of Jaemin’s voice telling some unknown person to _watch over him for me, please._ He thinks of Jaemin lying on the bathroom floor, nose bleeding, chest shaking with coughs and almost laughter. In his mind he hears the crunch of leaves underfoot and the howl of wind above. 

He looks Jaemin dead in the eye but doesn't respond. He simply watches Jaemin turn away, open the door, and leave, going not into his room next door but somewhere down the hall, footsteps vanishing. He locks the door behind him.

The clouds part for a single ray of sunlight. He opens the window to let it in.

…

The days grow colder. They grow shorter. The trees are all bare, the very last of their leaves changing color and making their slow descent to the graying earth. Nothing seems to keep Renjun warm anymore, not his heaviest coat or his warmest pair of shoes.

The sky is gray, always.

Renjun doesn’t go home for fall break. He stays and tells himself it’s because he has things to do, tells himself that home is too far away for just three days. He tells himself that he could leave if he wanted to. That it is his choices that keep him here and nothing else.

Chenle tells him to come home. Renjun says he will soon.

Renjun often lies awake at night listening for some type of sound from next door. He doesn’t see Jaemin like he used to—the other boy is always busy with something, and whenever he sees Renjun on campus he turns to walk the other way.

Sometimes Renjun can hear doors creak open in the night, the tired running of water, the silent sigh of a body turning on a mattress. He hears Jaemin, but does not see him.

 _It’s better that way,_ Renjun thinks. _For both of us._

_…_

“Is there something going on that I should know about?”

Renjun watches Jisung balance Renjun’s chemistry textbook in the crook of his arm as they walk past the library, the air crisp but not unbearable “No.”

“Jaemin told me to leave.” 

Jisung flips a page in the book with a gloved hand, eyes skimming over the diagrams.

“He’s right,” Jisung says slowly, closing the book. He takes a deep breath. “You should leave while you still can.”

“Why do you two keep saying that?” Renjun says, watching a leaf tumble across the sidewalk. 

Jisung stops walking. He places Renjun’s textbook on a bench and looks right at him, his expression one of youth and frailty. He seems unhappy.

“Jaemin asked me to look out for you. I haven't had anyone to talk to in a long time,” Jisung says, eye growing distant. “You’re my friend.”

He pulls worriedly at the thread on his gloves and Renjun watches as he chews on his bottom lip.

“There's something evil here,” Jisung says, his voice small. He’s as pale as a sheet of paper left carefully blank, unused, empty. Jisung’s black coat and thick gloves cover his skin and make the pallor of his face look like a blob of paint on a black canvas. “It hurts people.”

“What are you talking about?” Renjun asks, stepping forward. Jisung takes a step back and looks at his gloves.

“There was a fire here, a long time ago,” Jisung says calmly, easing one of his thick knit gloves off his hand. Renjun sees a sliver of bone-white skin, the outline of pale, bony fingers. “In one of the chemistry labs. All the students managed to make it out.”

Jisung looks at his bare hand. Renjun sees something like a spreading smudge on the unmarked skin. “All the students except me, of course.” 

As Renjun watches, the skin on Jisung’s hand turns red then black as if it is burning, parts of it curling away to the point where Renjun can see bone. Jisung just stands there calmly, watching his own skin burn and peel in the absence of a flame. He looks at Renjun and undoes the button at the neck of his jacket, revealing burnt black skin surrounding his throat. His eyes have a listless gaze to them, and for a second Renjun thinks he sees flames reflected in them.

“It wanted me so it set fire to that lab,” Jisung says. “It slammed the door shut on me and I was trapped in there, watching my own skin burn away.” His voice is so level, distant in a pained kind of way. He looks at his own blackened hand, and as Renjun watches the burns seem to reverse, returning to the skin its original unblemished form. “It’s an omen of death, and once it attaches itself to you there’s nothing you can do to avoid it. I've been trapped here for years because _it_ is keeping me here, and it never stops searching for another soul to latch on to. ”

“Jisung—”

“Listen to me,” Jisung says, his voice firmer than Renjun has ever heard it. “It’s chosen you. There's something in your soul that it won't stop searching for until it gets. You have to leave and never come back.”

“It wants to kill me,” Renjun whispers.

“Maybe,” Jisung says, “Or maybe it knows you're going to die anyway, and it's just waiting to reap the rewards. If you die here you can't move on. I've tried.”

An awful truth descends on Renjun, a chill spreading through his hands. “Jaemin saw it first.”

Jisung nods. “Jaemin and I have done our best to protect you. Jaemin told me to watch over you but I can't anymore. It’s coming for you, and I can't stop it.” He pulls his glove back on. “It’s haunting me, too. Even now, it still hurts me.”

“I can’t leave,” Renjun says. “I can’t.”

“You know Jaemin is willing to die to protect you, right?” Jisung’s eyes are solemn. “He’ll give up everything to save you, if he has to. Don’t let him do that.”

Renjun thinks of voices next door, of blood on the tiled floor, of creaking doors and open windows in empty rooms. He thinks of Jaemin’s stupid, handsome face, and that same face with tears streaming down it. He thinks of the tattoo on Jaemin’s arm, an unclosing eye, and wonders what it sees.

“You have Yeon’s bracelet, right?”

Renjun nods, numb.

“Keep it,” he says. “It will keep you safe.”

“How?” Renjun asks, reaching up to pull it down further.

Jisung shrugs and his image seems to waver in the sunlight. “Be careful, Renjun. Please.”

Jisung takes a step back and Renjun blinks against a sudden gust of wind. The wind passes, and when Renjun opens his eyes, Jisung is gone.

…

Renjun sees Yeon one last time, standing in front of the forest. Her pink dress is torn on the side, and blood is dried all along her forehead and cheek. She lifts her arm and taps her wrist, and then vanishes, gone just as quick as she came.

Renjun blinks, and the air grows colder.

…

Renjun slams his books onto the table in front of Jaemin, and the sound echoes through the nearly empty library. "Tell me what is going on. Now."

Jaemin looks up from his paper. There are dark circles under his eyes, and he seems to be weighed down by an exhaustion that Renjun cannot place.

"Do you believe?" He asks, whisper confined to the small space between them. "I can't explain if you don't believe."

Renjun thinks of bright-eyed Jisung, with his burned hands and hallowed expression. He thinks of Yeon, arm covered in grass bracelets, face turned black with blood. He says nothing.

Jaemin speaks without waiting for a response. "The new chemistry labs were built after the old ones burned down in the 80s. When the news reported it, they said it was a strangely lucky tragedy. Out of all the people in the building, only one died."

"Jisung," Renjun whispers.

"They found him in a locked room, a burned corpse." Jaemin's eyes go glassy. "He didn't suffer. The smoke inhalation killed him first."

"In the 1950s a young girl's body was found on the trails. It looked as if she had broken her neck falling down the side of the mountain. It was considered a tragic accident, and her parents built a small memorial in the woods. They used to work here, a long, long time ago."

"It doesn't make sense," Renjun says. "None of it does."

"This campus is littered with spirits," Jaemin says. "Most of them our age or younger. There is something here that won't let them move on."

"Jisung said there was something evil here."

Jaemin rubs his face with his hands but says nothing. He sighs.

"There's a lot of things here that you can't understand. I'm not here just to play soccer."

"You're trying to free these spirits." Renjun looks around the deserted library. "You can see them all."

"It’s exhausting," Jaemin says quietly. "When I first visited this place I could barely tell who was there and who wasn't. I can lend some of them my energy but that's it. I'm here to help them, but I can't."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Renjun asks. "I know I can't see them, but…"

Jaemin’s voice is flat, emotionless, strained. "Renjun, you're in _danger_." 

"From what?" Renjun asks. "The thing keeping the spirits here?"

“Yes.” Jaemin looks at him. “It's not even a spirit, not really. It's something else, something...worse. I can't explain. It’s like an omen, a prediction of misfortune.”

“But why is it after me?” Renjun suddenly feels a chill crawl up his fingers, latching onto him like a vise.

"I see ghosts," Jaemin says. "But you…you attract them like a magnet. They're drawn to you. And the same thing that draws them to you is the same thing that draws _it_ to you. You need to leave." 

Jaemin grabs his bag and stands. Renjun follows, confused. 

"What about you?" Renjun says, and his voice is louder than he means it to be. "What will happen to you?"

Jaemin pauses, hand on the door of the library. His voice is a whisper. "I don't know."

The autumn air is like a slap to the face. It is cold and biting and even though the leaves on the ground blaze orange and yellow they cannot mimic the color of warmth.

"You'll get hurt if you stay.” Jaemin says quietly. “I don’t want that.”

“Why does it matter to you?” Renjun asks, and his mind flickers through pages of square-shaped memories: a scream in the night, a whisper, a never closing eye. He imagines a deep pain that he has never felt, imagines what burning flesh must smell like in a locked room. He rubs absentmindedly at his wrists, fingers ghosting over the dried bracelet there.

Jaemin is silent for a long time, staring at Renjun, a dark outline against the pale sky and red leaves. When he speaks, the words come out haltingly, blocking each other and running in circles.

“I care for you,” Jaemin says. “I don’t want to see something bad happen to you knowing that I could have stopped it.” A pause. “You mean a lot to me, Renjun.”

Renjun sees Jaemin swallow, mouth opening as if to say something more.

Renjun feels a pull deep in his chest, something that begins to beat as the wind picks up around them, wild. He hears the wind roar, so fierce he can feel it pushing against him. Jaemin stumbles for a second, surprised by the sudden gust. His feet scrape against the leaves littering the pavement, each slowly skittering into the updraft. They look almost beautiful, as if they are dancing on unseen currents. They whirl in small circular motions, surrounding them.

A leaf breaks free of the group and whizzes by Renjun, the edge leaving a small scrape where it passes his ear. Renjun’s hand flies to his ear to cover the small cut, skin stinging in the cold air.

“What the hell,” Rejun gasps, watching the leaves whirl and writhe around him. Their edges are sharper than the edges of leaves should be, scraping against his exposed skin.

“We have to get out of here,” Jaemin says, voice hoarse. “Renjun, come on.”

“No, I don’t understand—”

The leaves blast away from them towards one point of the sidewalk and plaster themselves against the bench and light poles. In that split moment, Renjun also sees the outline of some almost human figure, perfectly outlined by the leaves plastering themselves to its form. The wind continues to blow and then the outline vanishes, nothing behind it but empty space. 

Renjun’s eyes widen and he looks at Jaemin, a question bubbling on his tongue but Jaemin grabs his hand and pulls him away from the leaves skittering on the pavement. His hands are warm in Renjun’s as he pushes him forward.

“Run!” He shouts over the wind. Renjun pauses but he sees that figure in the swirling leaves again, made up of negative space, and he turns on his heel and runs as if he is flying.

 _You are being haunted,_ Jaemin had said. _I can see it._

He catches a glimpse of the shape of an arm, the shape of a leg mid-step, and as he runs he can hear Jaemin behind him, murmuring something to the leaves. He feels a hand close around his own and feels Jaemin pulling him forward. 

“You’re so slow!” Jaemin says, but the words do not contain their usual biting sarcasm. Renjun stumbles along behind him, the wind grabbing at his back. He feels the leaves rush at him, hitting his face and covering his eyes, and he tries to wave them away with his other hand. Gusts of cold air tear past his eyes and into his unzipped jacket, curling around his ribs.

Renjun feels something grab his other hand, but all he can see is leaves.

Jaemin looks back at him, eyes wide, his nose bleeding down over his lip, and stops. Renjun collides into his chest and feels Jaemin wrap his arms around him, a warm body in the premature winter around them.

“Leave him!” Jaemin yells, and Renjun can feel leaves swirling around them. “Leave this place!” 

Renjun buries his face into Jaemin’s shoulder and wraps his hands in his thick coat and he feels himself shaking, can feel Jaemin’s heartbeat through his shirt, loud and insistent. He feels something that feels like a hand on the back of his neck, fingers trailing over his skin with the languor of a predator finding its prey.

“Don’t touch him!” Jaemin shouts. “Get back!”

Renjun can’t see what Jaemin sees. Renjun does not know what is there. But when he turns he can see leaves swirling over and around them, Jaemin looking outward with his face set in a mask of grim determination. Renjun follows his line of sight to the very center of the leaves, to a shadow that seems too large, too independent, hidden among the leaves.

Jaemin looks at him and tries to wipe away the blood trickling out of his nose.

Renjun feels something pulling at him, digging into his skin like it has claws. A leaf hits his hand and he stares at it for a moment, an eerie silence descending on his mind. It is a lovely bright red, smooth and cold. It is almost the shade of the blood smeared all along Jaemin’s face.

The leaf is flung away by the wind and in the next moment his hand is being yanked backwards, the force of it so violent Renjun feels his shoulder pop. He screams and tries to dig his heels into cracks in the pavement, Jaemin grabbing his wrist. A leaf hits Jaemin’s chest, then another and another and another, red and yellow and orange and pushing him back.

Renjun scrabbles to grab his hand but the wind pulls him back and his sneakers skid against the pavement. He loses his balance and slides across the ground, the autumn leaves cutting into his skin. They block out the gray sky like a swarm of butterflies or birds, a prison made up of living, moving pieces. The pavement scrapes his hands open and leaves his palms raw, some unseen thing pulling at him. Renjun catches a glimpse of Jaemin reaching out to him, leaves swirling around his feet, and then loses it as the leaves encapsulate him.

Renjun looks up at the gray sky and watches leaves swirl and then flatten around him, creating a tornado that defies logic and reason, and he watches the space around him slowly grow dark as the leaves weave themselves together. It becomes black as night inside the leaves, and the ground falls from beneath him, vanishing into nothingness. 

...

Renjun does not know where he is. He only knows that it is dark and there is a rustling that seems to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once. He stands and looks upwards, and the darkness around him shifts and swirls. The place seems too large, like it should not exist.

There is something moving in the darkness, hunched over, just another shadow but somehow with more form. Renjun steps backward, away from the figure. A small ray of light breaks through the shifting darkness, landing on an unmoving figure lying on the ground. The figure is wearing a navy varsity jacket, face buried in the crook of its arm. 

Renjun runs over and turns Jaemin onto his back, taking note of the small scratches littering his face and the blood dried beneath his nose. His eyes are closed but his eyelids flutter as if he is dreaming.

“Wake up,” Renjun whispers, shaking Jaemin’s shoulders. He turns to see the shifting shadow moving just outside of the light. “Jaemin. Wake up.’

Jaemin murmurs something, lips moving but producing little sound. Renjun lowers his ear to Jaemin’s mouth, trying to hear what he’s saying. He only hears gasping whispers, fragments of words.

Renjun grabs Jaemin’s hand and looks upwards at that small ray of light. He looks down at Jaemin and then it disappears, swathing both of them in an endless black. 

Renjun feels something brush his cheek, cold and smooth. He feels something like a claw scrape against his skin, the sensation causing him to burn with discomfort. He squeezes Jaemin’s hand.

The rustling subsides for a moment and Renjun hears a voice in the darkness.

“Renjun? Are you there?” The voice is familiar and scared. 

“Jisung?” Renjun cranes his neck towards the sound.”Is that you?” 

A ray of light peeks through and illuminates the ground just in front of Renjun. He peers into the darkness, listening for Jisung’s voice.

“Renjun,” another voice says, this one pitched with urgency. “We know the way out, come on. Follow us!”

“Where are you?” Renjun asks, squinting. The light vanishes and once again he is surrounded by darkness so thick that he can’t even see in front of him. Jaemin’s hand is cold in his.

“We’re over here!” Jisung yells. “Hurry!”

“What about Jaemin?” Renjun says, another ray of light breaking through. 

“Leave him.” Their voices blend in a mix of fear and urgency. 

The light leaves, and Renjun feels a hand clamp over his mouth and a presence press against him. It’s a warm body, and somewhat familiar. 

“It’s not them,” Jaemin whispers, breath hot against Renjun’s ear. “Don’t respond.”

“How do you know,” Renjun murmurs when Jaemin removes his hand. 

“I can see,” Jaemin says, voice barely a whisper. “They are just shadows now. It’s trying to trick you.”

“What is?”

Light breaks through and Jaemin looks him dead in the eye. “That is.”

Renjun looks over Jaemin’s shoulder and sees two leaves, one red and one orange, swirl through the darkness. He thinks there’s something strange about their movement, something rigid, and then he realizes they are connected to something.

He squints. They look almost like eyes in the black.

The light disappears.

Renjun feels the ground shift beneath them, heaving as if it is alive. There is no notion of location here—Renjun feels disoriented, like a sailor at sea in a boat without oars. A bright shaft of light breaks through, and for a second Renjun sees two leaves that look like eyes, hovering right in front of him. They vanish.

The leaves around them peel away, one by one, and they are no longer on the sidewalk in front of the library. Instead, they are in one of the chemistry classrooms, the sun peeking through the gray clouds to stream through the windows. They are alone.

Renjun scrambles to his feet and runs to the door but hears it click just as he lays his hands on the knob. The door is locked from the outside.

“It’s going to kill you,” Jaemin says, and Renjun turns to see him spitting blood onto the tile in front of him. He sways, hands and knees pressed to the floor. 

Renjun runs to him, pulling him onto his feet. He glances out the window at the courtyard below. They’re only on the third floor, so jumping wouldn’t be too dangerous…

 _That’s not going to work,_ someone says in the back of Renjun’s mind. _I tried._

Renjun pushes open the window and a gust of cold air swirls into the room, bringing with it several bright red leaves. They look like blood as they dance into the corners.

“We’re going to get out of here,” Renjun says, adjusting his shoulder so Jaemin can lean on it better. “I know we will.”

Jaemin laughs dryly. “What’s the point?” He asks.”Wherever we go it follows. It’s with us right now.” He coughs as Renjun looks to him. “Behind you,” he whispers. 

Renjun turns and sees two leaves suspended in midair like eyes, but as he looks at them they drop to the ground.

 _Renjun,_ something in the room whispers. _Renjun Renjun Renjun_

“Where is it right now?” Renjun asks, gently lowering Jaemin to the ground. “Say it quietly.”

“By the door,” Jaemin murmurs, blood coating his bottom lip. “It wants you to try to open it again.”

Renjun stands and goes to the door, but doesn’t reach for the knob. Instead, he reaches his hand into the empty air in front of him, fingers stretched into the nothingness. He feels the wind pick up and hears the window slide closed, leaves swirling. One brushes past his ear and he grabs it, crushing it in his hand.

There's a thud at the window and Renjun turns to see a leaf plaster itself against the glass, bright orange and then followed by another, and another, leaves flying into the glass until Renjun can't even see outside. Jaemin presses his hands against the window, mouth a bloody slash.

 _The door,_ someone whispers. _Break the glass in the door._

Renjun turns frantically, looking for something heavy enough to break the glass. He can hear the window rattling behind him.

“The fire extinguisher,” Jaemin grits out. Renjun grabs the fire extinguisher off the wall and steps back before slamming it into the small glass window set into the door. It cracks on the first try. Renjun slams it again and again until the glass finally gives out, shattering onto the floor outside. He slides his arm through the window and turns the handle from the outside. The door swings open with a click.

“Jaemin!” Renjun yells, holding the door open. Jaemin lets go of the window and runs to the door as the window bursts open behind them and leaves fly in, hordes of them hiding something much more sinister, much more dangerous.

Renjun takes the stairs two at a time, jumping down as many as he can despite the burning in his legs, Jaemin right behind him, Leaves spill out into the stairwell through the open door, their movement suggesting a living figure behind them. Leaves rush under their feet and Renjun narrowly avoids slipping on them.

A leaf lands on his shoulder and he twists, throwing it off. It hits Jaemin, who grabs it and throws it to the side.

_Hurry. Renjun._

Renjun steps on a leaf and his ankle skids, sending him tumbling down the last flight of stairs, hitting the bottom in an ungraceful tangle of limbs. A burning sensation races up his leg, his back, tightening around his throat. His entire ankle is on fire with pain, his spine tingling. He stumbles to his feet, his ankle threatening to give way beneath him. 

“No!” Jaemin yells, and Renjun sees him pause at the top of the stairs above him. His face is heartbroken. “ _No_!”

Leaves swirl over his feet and Renjun catches a glimpse of the scared look on Jaemin’s face before leaves cover that, too. Renjun slams the door open and finds himself just behind the science building.

_The woods, Renjun._

Renjun feels someone pull his hand and he instinctively pulls away, fingers tingling. He looks down and sees Yeon with her tiny hand wrapped around his, her eyes solemn. There is her pink dress, her grass bracelets, her jet black hair, all layered underneath the image of a ghastly gray corpse, head bloody and eyes empty. He looks up and sees Jisung, hands covered but coat open so that Renjun can see the burns that stretch up his throat. He sees a boy in the field with three earrings in his left ear and three slash marks across his eye, a girl with red hair and blood soaking her sleeves. He sees more and more figures in the field, some of them so pale they are almost transparent, each young. They are hollow, now. Just leftover remnants of the living people they used to be. Each one wears a small grass bracelet around their wrist.

“You’re one of us,” Yeon says quietly, and Renjun hears the phrase echo among the field, rustling through the trees. “We’ll keep you safe.”

Renjun feels hands pulling at him, calm and curious, guiding him to the forest. He looks back and sees the science building door ease open. 

“Look at us,” Jisung says, and his gloves are gone. He’s wearing just a shirt now, burns gone. “Just look at us.”

“I don’t understand…” Renjun pauses, realizing the pain in his ankle is gone. “Where are you taking me?”

They don’t respond. Renjun looks back and sees Jaemin looking at him, eyes wide. His mouth opens and closes, but Renjun can't hear what he is saying.

“What about Jaemin?” Renjun asks, feeling Yeon’s hand tighten on his. 

“He’ll be fine,” the boy with the earrings says. The slashes on his face are gone, and his eyes glitter with life. 

“Come back! Renjun, come back!”

Jaemin’s voice is muted behind him and when Renjun turns he feels Jisung’s hand on his shoulder.

“You can’t go back,” he says, and Renjun sees in his eyes an awful, terrible truth.

Renjun looks at Jaemin one last time, and walks into the woods surrounded by ghosts. 

_I’ll be back_ , he promises himself. 

…

Renjun looks at the newspaper lying open on Jaemin’s desk. “I really broke my neck, huh? I didn't even notice.”

“You were dead the second you hit the bottom of the stairs,” Jaemin says, rubbing his face with his hands. “Renjun, I’m sorry.”

“You did your best.” Renjun stands, looking out the window. “It’s really not that bad, being dead. I don’t have class.”

The world outside the window is still and quiet. Renjun watches the fog spill over the mountains, gray and heavy like a blanket. Renjun looks over at Jaemin.

“Your family will be coming to pick up your stuff,” Jaemin says. “I don’t think anyone will be put in your room until next year.”

Renjun feels a pain in his chest. The next time he sees Chenle he won’t even be able to speak to him.

“It doesn’t really matter anyway, I guess.” Renjun watches Jaemin shift in his seat. “I’m not using it.”

“I regret,” Jaemin starts quietly, “That I never got the chance to tell you I loved you while you were alive.”

Renjun feels a strange chill, a reminder that he is paper-thin in every way, hollow and hallowed. Being dead isn’t much different from being alive, he figures. It’s the same routines, over and over again. He watches leaves outside the window, weakly floating along the breeze. He’s not scared of them.

“I’ll be here forever,” Renjun says, and the words echo in his throat. “You can say it as often as you like. I’m still here.”

_Forever._

“It’s not the same.” Jaemin looks at him, his expression soft with longing and pain.

Renjun reaches for Jaemin’s hand and finds it warm in his own. He feels an aching, bitter cold. Jaemin sighs, briefly pressing his lips to Renjun's cheek. 

Renjun expects to feel something but all he feels is an aching numbness. He looks out the window and sees faces peering up at him, Jisung and Yeon standing side by side. He looks away and sees a shadow curl over Jaemin's shoulder, darker than everything else in the room.

Fog rolls over the mountains. Renjun coughs—it’s getting colder around here.

**Author's Note:**

> Love you aj!!! merry christmas!!


End file.
